KaBar2

Here's a booking picture of "Minneapolis Skinny" after he and Adman got arrested on a train, along with Adman's daughter, I think. Skinny was the other tramp who, along with Adman, went down to Dalhart, Texas to retrieve the remains of Lord Open Road, who had been murdered by a couple of fucking dirtbags, and buried by the County in a pauper's grave. The way the County does that is they dig one hole and put several inexpensive plywood coffins in it, stacked on top of one another. Lord Open Road was not the top coffin and he had been buried quite a while, so the coffins and the bodies in them had deteriorated quite a bit. The County dug up the grave with Open Road in it, unloaded the coffins above him and disinterred him. Then they cremated the remains, except there was quite a bit of dirt that got into the coffin during the disinterment. So when Adman and Skinny received Lord Open Road's remains, there were several heavy ass boxes weighing about forty or fifty pounds. They took the boxes, all their gear, packs, water jugs, etc. and set off, sweating profusely, down to the UP rail yard in Dalhart. When they got down there, they were exhausted. Both of them were probably thinking this job had turned into a lot more than they bargained for when Steam Train Maury Graham, the Grand Patriarch of Hobos, had dispatched them to go retrieve Lord Open Road's remains and bring them back up to Britt. They definitely could not catch trains carrying 120 pounds of ashes and graveyard dirt. Then they had a revelation. A fitting tribute to Lord Open Road, who was a life-long hobo and tramp of the first order, would be to sprinkle some of his ashes on every boxcar they rode, so that Open Road could "ride the rails forever." So that's what they did. They sprinkled a little bit of Open Road on every train they caught, and on the UP rail bed, and everywhere else they could think of that seemed appropriate, so Open Road could rest in peace, scattered all over the Union Pacific railroad! By the time they got Open Road back up to Britt he was a much more manageable twenty-five pounds of ashes in a plastic bag in one cardboard box. And he is buried in the National Hobo Cemetery at Evergreen Cemetery in Britt, Iowa. But he is also riding the Union Pacific until Judgment Day! http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=adman, hobo&view=detailv2&&id=2AEFF78914134DA8AE9C1FF23B0461C816471CB3&selectedIndex=67&ccid=MD6qNCR4&simid=608053196700910266&thid=JN.n9JzLztyh9kHcR/KOBuTMg&ajaxhist=0 This is a booking photo of Adman's daughter, I think. As you can see, she doesn't look too upset about being arrested on a freight train. Stalwart girl! http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=adman%2c+hobo&view=detailv2&id=2AEFF78914134DA8AE9C672B40EECF368E00889C&selectedindex=83&ccid=uDuFtZuA&simid=607999943406780492&thid=JN.pcsMahRk06qtSSO%2FE%2BlafQ&ajaxhist=0&first=1

I don't know, today must be "Cool Photograph Day" or something. This is a link to a photograph of a bunch of young paratroopers about to jump into Normandy on D-Day, 1944, with a split screen to show them today, as elderly veterans. Looks like most of them made it through WWII alive, Thank God. Sometimes people don't feel it like they should, but we owe these men everything. They were just kids, but when the shit hit the fan, they stood up and did their duty. We should all hope we can be this brave when and if our turn comes to defend the civilized world. I love the guy with the Errol Flynn moustache. If you gotta go parachute into certain death, by golly, have a little style, you know? http://i.imgur.com/W8i9ZEr.jpg

Adman in recent years. Scroll the photo page, you may find pictures of Adman as a young tramp. http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=adman%2c+hobo&id=1720C41301AC731B9A7B8578C651FC6EC3C36076&FORM=IQFRBA

Iowa Blackie, one of the last, best pictures of him. http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-P16DJugFFfs/TW1hcB3SqHI/AAAAAAAAUOk/yzAI3gZwD0k/s1600/Iowa%2BBlackie%252C%2Bor%2BRichard%2BGage%252C%2Bby%2Btrain%252C%2BAP.jpg

Iowa Blackie, in his prime. http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=iowa blackie, hobo&view=detailv2&&id=3274BA3D3A0844258F8B7BA744FECF0D18A2C4EB&selectedIndex=0&ccid=Y53mSsAz&simid=608006806758557650&thid=JN.jC+5ETuIDjbCPHkDmi8Ung&ajaxhist=0 Iowa Blackie, about 2012. http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=iowa+blackie%2c+hobo&view=detailv2&&id=8D805BF08A78F949308CB8EC7378283A184C7460&selectedIndex=4&ccid=oHf1fLNs&simid=608025932250091418&thid=JN.3UWanKvmBDftDzR5lOjuIQ&ajaxhist=0

Here's a link to a story written about the Pennsylvania Kid in 1974. I never met the Pennsylvania Kid, but this story comes from the same period of time when I broke in on trains. Note the ideas that the story mentions: jungles were once full of tramps, the railroad workers tolerated tramps being in the yards and even helped us. They gave the tramps coffee and sandwiches. The jungles were CLEAN, and the tramps kept a clean camp. Pennsylvania Kid was greatly admired by Iowa Blackie, when Blackie was 25 years old. And now Blackie is gone too, but if you look at a picture of Blackie in his latter years, you can see traces of Pennsylvania Kid and his outlandish hat. Same thing is true about Adman. These men are definitely senior citizens now, but in 1974, we were all young and crazy and wanted to ride forever. http://www.johnjlopinot.com/the-pennsylvania-kid-1974/

Just found St. Louis Frank's Rat Pack website again. He has some good photos of the 2015 National Hobo Convention, including King Czech Hobo and Queen Hobo Lump. Czech Hobo has ridden quite a bit, but Hobo Lump is the real McCoy. She rode extensively when she was younger, and her son, Hobo Grump (a former hobo king) also rode extensively. Hobo Grump is buried in the National Hobo Cemetery in Britt. http://ratpackstlouis.com/hobo-u63.htm

Joining a gym that is a nation-wide network is another good idea. Sometimes paying bills for things like cell phones, gym memberships, internet service, etc. can get to be a hassle, but the two things that seem to be the most worth it (to me) are pre-paid cell phones and a gym membership. I have some tramp friends that manage to scrape up $20 for a thirty-pack of Busch every day or two, but cannot seem to find the wherewithal to get a shower or wash their clothes. Going around being a "stinky train-riding gentleman," as Rollin Nowhere once so eloquently put it, is not such a good idea. The basics of civilized life should not be all that difficult to obtain for the average person. Wash your feet, your armpits and your privates every day. Brush your teeth and floss every day. Drink plenty of water. Try to get at least one decent meal every day. If you smoke, QUIT. If you drink, try to minimize your alcohol intake. (I know far more tramps that have died from smoking and drinking than were ever killed in railroad accidents.) Don't use addictive drugs. Don't share personal items like hats, clothing, bandanas, etc. If you have sex, USE A CONDOM and make sure it's safe sex. These are just basic, normal, common-sense things about living a normal life, but there are a lot of people out on the road that seem to have just tossed the "common sense" book out the window.

Michael Grant-- I know very little about units, because I usually avoid them if at all possible. Getting caught while actually on a train pretty much guarantees you will go to jail (as opposed to getting a ticket or a lecture.) But getting caught in a unit, including a DPU, is going to give the railroad a strong desire to see you do some real jail time, therefore, I avoid units unless I have absolutely no choice. I don't have any idea about unlocking locked unit doors or escape hatches, but I'm willing to bet that if you get caught bypassing a locked unit door they will charge you with burglary of a motor vehicle, or possibly even interfering with railroad operations. Getting caught with keys sounds like a prison sentence waiting to happen. I definitely don't recommend any sort of theft or vandalism to any railroad property, and definitely not to any unit. Stealing a ride in a boxcar or on a grainer porch is one thing. Busting into a unit is something entirely different. And as for there being too much information on this thread, you yourself have benefitted from information you obtained on here, as well as from IMs between the two of us, in which I provided you with considerable information about trainhopping. I hope you are not in turn adopting the attitude, now that you know how to catch out, that those of us who know about how to catch out safely should exclude newbies from learning how. If the old guys that taught me, forty-five years ago, had adopted that attitude, I probably would never have learned how, and would never have been able to tell you (and lots of other people,) what I know. I have gotten considerable criticism from some trainhoppers for putting up this thread. They want trainhopping to be some sort of secret club that only the "cool people" can belong to. This thread, and a couple of others similar to it on 12 Oz. that were lost in server crashes, has probably given hundreds of young people who wanted to catch out at least the basics of trainhopping safety. Last time I looked it had thousands of hits, I forget how many (edit: 262,790 something . . .) I hope that those people who learned some safety tips from this thread who went on to catch out had the decency to share what they learned with others. The basics of Tramp Life are very simple. If we all followed Rufe's philosophy of being a stand-up tramp, the world would definitely be a better place.

Just received word that the new King of Hobos crowned in Britt is Czech Hobo, and the Queen is Hobo Lump, a former Queen if I recall correctly. The Convention was reportedly a great success. Collinwood Kid brought in a van full of dumpster-dived beef (800 pounds? Can that be correct?) Bummed out that I missed it this year. Maybe next year. Fifteen months to go before "Liberation Day."

I am assuming there was no gear left in the camp, no pack, no bindle, no cook gear. If this is correct, then the camp could very well have been abandoned and the tramp who built it may have moved on. If, however, there was gear left in the camp, then it would be pretty disrespectful to go in and start checking things out. A tramp's camp is his home, just like your house is your home. Think about how you would feel to come home and find a stranger in the middle of your living room, say watching TV. You'd be pretty upset, I'm willing to bet. In a big jungle, where several people are living, they usually make arrangements for somebody to stay and watch the camp. It's not unheard of for local kids to come in to a jungle that's unoccupied and wreck it. The jungle at Eureka is pretty much trashed now because of local kids using it as a shooting gallery and drinking spot. They throw trash everywhere and do vandalizing stuff like taking a shit in the hooch, etc. This kind of behavior is usually because the kids feel powerless in dealing with the adult world, and like people who are oppressed everywhere, they take advantage of a situation where they can oppress somebody else. They do it just "because we can, and the bums can't stop us." I think now that building a hooch at Eureka was a mistake. The first time I went there it was pretty much spotless. Trees, brush, very little trash. I found an old fire ring, so I decided to rebuild a jungle there. Stretch Wilson needed a place winter over, so we put up a big piece of railroad plastic in the trees and cleared a spot to roll out. That was about 2001. It worked so-so, but the next winter was really wet, so we built a raggedy hooch with a crappy flat roof, covered with railroad plastic. It leaked pretty bad. In 2003, twelve years ago, we built a real shack and later on we re-built it with shipping pallets for walls with a gable roof, decked over with plywood scraps and shingled with those big 4x8 corrugated plastic political signs. Lots of people have stayed there, but kids who probably were just babies when we first built it have grown up to be young teenagers, and they have trashed out the entire jungle. They don't have any respect, because they feel like nobody has any respect for them. The jungle is not permanently occupied, so they feel like "nobody" owns it. They feel entitled to trash it out, because they can. But they didn't build it, and they didn't contribute to it. They don't have any right to fuck it up. Props to you for respecting the guy and the camp. He probably won't be there very long. If you guys decide to hang out there, treat the jungle with the same respect you want for yourself. Burn your trash. Collect aluminum cans in a specific area, don't just pitch them everywhere. Never break glass in the jungle. If you have to relieve yourselves, don't do it anywhere close to the jungle. It's just common sense behavior for a common-use area. When I go back on the road, I'll be using the same gear I took last time. I've still got it all. But this time around, I will still have a place to come back to if I choose to come back. And I will have at least a small income, so I won't have to work as much or fly a sign, probably. I haven't caught on the fly since about 1972. I still get off rolling trains, but I don't hit 'em rolling any more. It's too dangerous. It was just as dangerous when I was 22, but I was too reckless and full of myself to admit it. Can it be done? Sure. But at what risk? Death? Dismemberment? It's definitely not worth it. I enjoy making my own gear, the old school way. Not everybody likes doing things the Old School Way, but I do. But I buy stuff too. It just depends on how I'm feeling at the time. The old ways are dying out, being kicked to the curb by the younger riders. They refuse to bathe, some of them, refuse to have any respect for society, but they carry all kinds of electronic gadgets. Whatever. We have different goals. I ride trains to GET AWAY from all that shit. For some reason, they want to be wired in to the System. Not me. Each to his own, I guess. I'd be more impressed if they tried to maintain at least normal social standards. They don't respect society because they think society doesn't respect them, like the kids that wreck the jungle. A lot of the worst ones are essentially "throwaway kids." Kicked out by their parents. It's pretty sad.

I'm disappointed that I'm not going to be able to go up to Britt this year for the Convention. I planned for it, and asked for the time off from work well in advance, but I can't get the time off that I need. (It's a conflict with another employee who asked for those same days off.) Back in the day, I would have just said, "Fuck it," and quit the job, but I'm fifteen months from retirement, and I can't do that, and they know I can't do that. It's tough getting a job past age fifty. It's practically impossible at age 64. If I take early retirement (before age 66) I lose about 25% of my Social Security income. They've really got you over a barrel when you get close to retirement age. None of you youngsters are worried about this shit yet, but you should be. Start planning for your retirement, investing money and saving money NOW. The time goes fast, really fast. And it speeds up once you have a kid to take care of. Forewarned is forearmed. Start preparing for retirement now! Being poor when you're young is kind of a big adventure. Being poor when you're old sucks bigtime.

What kind of bike? I'd say the smaller the better. Choose a boxcar or a gondola if you can, it will be much easier to hide the bike.

Not a complete sentence = not really a message. What does this mean, addseo1118?

There are a lot of stories pretty much just like that. Especially from people who can't stand the life they are living. I have considered it more than once! But I just have seventeen more months to go, so I am trying hard to hang with it until I turn 66. Hey, I found a GREAT trainhopping resource.! http://www.railfanguides.us/ It's freakin' awesome.

Here's another one, very similar, but from the Santa Fe Railroad, now Burlington Northern Santa Fe Similar stuff--how to mount/ dismount a ladder/stirrup, hazards in the yard and so on. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YFftm3bXNOs

Here is a cool old railroad worker's safety film released by Union Pacific in 1972, probably made in 1968 or so from the looks of the cars.. It kind of reminds me of those horribly boring films we were required to watch in junior high school, with a funky, "jazzy" 1960 sound track and awful, outdated fashions and hair styles. You'll love the hair styles on the girls--major hair spray, and very bouffant. The way the railroad workers are dressed is almost EXACTLY the way they dressed in 1970 when I first started catching out, and many tramps imitated this style (overalls, steel-toed work boots, etc.) in an effort to blend in culturally with the car knockers and switchmen. The idea was if you dressed like they did, they were less likely to rat you out.

Cool photos. I like it.

"A Million Little Pieces" by James Frey. Pretty fucking harsh. It's a first person account of coming back from the hellhole of alcoholism and drug addiction. This dude had a serious intent to drink himself to death. Among other things, during rehab he underwent two root canals and the installation of a two-front-teeth bridge WITHOUT ANY ANESTHESIA AT ALL--no General and no Local, because he fell down a flight of stairs drunk and bashed his front teeth out. Since he was in rehab, he had to go cold turkey on the dental work. Fucking horror, that's all I can say. Dude must have balls the size of basketballs. I cannot fathom how much pain that must have been. TWO fucking root canals, all in one go? Holy shit.

Encouraging new writers with some talent is always good. How many girls are actually on here anyway? No hatin'. People don't get better at it from getting disrespected. If you have criticisms, make them constructive criticisms, not just hateful remarks. Keep at it, New Girl. It's getting better as you go.

Hit the Sally or St. Vinny's. I don't give a shit about clothes and never did. I was wearing work boots from Sears & Roebuck and Dickie's work shirts to high school way back in the 1960s.. I dress pretty much exactly the same today as I did then, except now I wear a pair of combat boots I got from the shit rack at the Command Post military surplus store. As an actual adult, I am required to wear khakis and mindless drone polo shirts with a collar and running shoes to work. It's mildly annoying, but like I said, I could not care less about clothes.. I hate dressing like a suburban fuck just so I can make a living, but it's either conform or starve. Whatever. Twenty months to go and then they can all just bite me.

CharlesJk8--What is this about Chas? Are you bitin' my thread? Just curious. This thread has run since October of 2001. That's over thirteen years. If you don't like my shit, then say so, but don't be unoriginal. True tramps and true writers don't bite each others' style. Just sayin'.

One of the hallmarks of a 24-7 tramp who lives on the rails is that he (or she) makes his own gear out of available items scrounged on the railroad or from dumpsters. It is hard to duplicate the thermal efficiency of a down sleeping bag, but there are ways of improving the thermal efficiency of a lighter-weight sleeping bag or even a blanket bindle. One of the best ways is to surround the lightweight bag or bindle with a insulating layer of static air (air that isn't blown by the wind.) Wind carries away whatever thermal warmth your body creates inside of your sleeping bag, so by putting insulating material under your bag and getting you up off the colder ground (like layers of cardboard boxes, or even branches and leaves off of trees or bushes) you eliminate or reduce a heat loss into the ground. By wrapping or folding your sleeping bag inside of a dark-colored waterproof tarp (Wal-Mart, $8) you reduce the heat loss through the fabric of the light-weight bag and increase the thermal efficiency by sleeping in "layers." I always carry my sleeping bag rolled up in a tarp, with the ends "folded in" to protect my bindle from rain or dust. 24-7 tramps often scavenge what are called "dunnage air bags" from rail lines or dumpsters near warehouses that are served by rail spurs. Dunnage air bags come in different grades, determined by the number of layers of tough paper of which the "envelope" is made (usually ranging from two layers up to eight.) The higher rated bags are quite stiff, almost like cardboard, and are designed for rail shipments in containers or boxcars, or for international sea cargo containers going overseas. These bags are placed between pallets of cargo, or stacks of boxes and inflated with a portable compressor equipped with a bag inflator device. (This device looks a lot like a tire inflator for tractor-trailer truck tires, with a air pressure indicator, but it is designed to deliver a higher flow rate, and the mouth of the inflator fits into a port on the air bag that looks like a plastic "doughnut.") These bags are disposable. When the cargo arrives at its destination, the warehouse workers just cut them with a knife, "whoosh" all the air comes out, and they are removed and tossed into a dumpster. The paper envelope is of less interest to us, but if you were freezing, you could just cut a slit in the end of the air bag just big enough to let you slip inside, and then climb inside. Even with no sleeping bag or blanket, the air space will insulate you fairly well--it could well be the difference between freezing to death and just spending a cold-ass night. Many tramps carefully cut the paper bag away from the plastic bladder contained inside and either cut down three sides of the bladder, making a large piece of plastic about 8'x 7' (the bags come in many sizes, but a good size for tramps in the 4x7 bag (48" x 84") when laid out flat. The plastic from which these bags are made is very tough. An air bag used as a ground cloth or insulating sleeping bag cover could last ten years if used carefully. Stretch Wilson used railroad air bags and railroad plastic to roof our first hooch at Eureka, and it worked pretty well. He has used a dunnage air bag bladder for a ground cloth as long as I've known him.

Burlington Northern Santa Fe (BNSF) has announced it will be taking a lot more precautions for crude oil shipments on their railroad, because of four recent derailments in the U.S. and Canada. They will be reducing speeds to a maximum of 35mph for oil trains in cities with more than 100,000 population, and they will be increasing track inspections, upgrades and repairs on track near waterways. They will also begin doing more comprehensive inspections of train wheel sets looking to identify and repair defective train wheels before they can cause derailments. BNSF is owned by Warren Buffet's "Berkshire Hathaway," and its headquarters is in Fort Worth, Texas.

A hobo that I know personally who kind of went both ways on being a tramp, is Hobo SLC (Salt Lake City). "SLC" was a very troubled youth and was involved in a life of crime from a young age. He learned to steal cars at age twelve, and by age thirteen he was stealing several cars a month and selling them to a corrupt auto salvage yard. His mother discovered a false bottom in his sock drawer that was hiding stacks of $100 bills totaling over $10,000. SLC had some older cousins who were juvenile delinquents who had successfully robbed a number of liquor stores and gas stations and wanted to move up to a bank robbery. They hired SLC as the getaway driver for an equal share when he was thirteen, almost fourteen. Of course, they got caught. SLC managed to get clear of the bank, but the cousins gave him up as part of a plea bargain and SLC was arrested at home. The cousins all went to the Indiana State penitentiary, and SLC went to the Indiana State Reform School for boys. He was a chronic truant before he got arrested, but with little else to do but study, he completed high school in the reform school with straight "A's" before he turned sixteen years old. His mother begged her state representative to help SLC, and he was permitted to attend the U.S. Air Force Academy at Colorado Springs (which is essentially a university) as an Air Force cadet starting at age sixteen, but could not leave the grounds of the Academy. He made short work of the curriculum at Colorado Springs and was allowed to enlist in the Air Force at age eighteen, whereupon he went to flight school. He was certified on several different planes and wound up as a fighter pilot during Vietnam, and flew against the North Vietnamese. I asked him once why in the world the U.S. Air Force would allow such a wild youth to become a fighter pilot, and he replied, "Because they knew I'd fly that sonofabitch right downtown and let 'em have it. And that's EXACTLY what I did." SLC claims he had to bail out twice, once from mechanical failure and once from battle damage, but says he was picked up quickly by rescue helicopters both times. He retired at an early age, and with a comfortable retirement income as a retired officer, he embarked upon several different business ventures interspersed with stints riding the rails "just for the pure hell of it." His personality is pretty much the same as when he was boosting cars for a living, "but these days I am damned careful to avoid breaking the law." I met SLC and his wife and son up at Britt years ago. It is easy to imagine his son being very nearly a copy of the father, but Marshmallow Kid told me, "My Dad must have been crazy. I would never do all the shit he did, it's way too dangerous." M.K. (as he is known now) rides trains too, but not with the reckless abandon his father exhibited. You meet all kinds of crazy people riding freight trains, most of whom seem like total bullshit artists, but SLC is very likely the real McCoy, although I've never tried to research his stories, they have the ring of truth. Another genuine article that did time for bank robbery was Road Hog U.S.A., who robbed a bank in Florida as an adult, in retaliation for the police in the beach town where he was crashing allowing all his possessions to be stolen after arresting him for vagrancy. Road Hog's bank robbery was what is known as a "note job," where the robber just gives the teller a note saying, "This is a bank robbery. Give me all the money." Road Hog managed to get out of the bank and onto a city bus that rolled up just as he exited the front door of the bank. He transferred to a taxi, went to a working class bar and told the bartender, "I've just come in to a bit of a windfall, and I'd like to buy the house a round." By the time the police found him, he had spent or given away most of the money to bar patrons and he went peacefully to jail. He got five years in the Federalpen nd served two and a helf years. I asked him what prison was like and he replied, "It wasn't too bad. Three hots and a cot, and I took a shower every single day!"